


Goodnight Noctis

by dicaeopolis



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Trans Gladiolus Amicitia, Trans Male Character, i just finished the game and the ending made me sad so im writing this to make myself feel better, its all fluff, lots of friendship feelings too, very powerful similes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-08-11 04:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16468511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicaeopolis/pseuds/dicaeopolis
Summary: Prompto and Gladio are on a mission. A mission entitled“get Noct’s and Ignis’ heads out of their asses”.Things don’t go quite as planned.





	1. The Plan

**Author's Note:**

> set sometime during that mid-game period where you ignore your destiny to run around hunting demons and doing silly sidequests for forty hours straight. Oh was i the only one who did th
> 
> IT HAS COME TO MY ATTENTION THAT SOME PEOPLE ARE HAVING A HARD TIME READING GLADIO'S TYPING, SO I'M POSTING TRANSLATIONS IN [THIS COMMENT](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/208355264) (WILL BE UPDATED AS I UPDATE)

So Prompto’s been noticing things lately.

Things about his best friend, specifically. They’ve been ranging out around Lestallum these days, sometimes for weeks at time, hunting bigger and stronger foes by night and day alike to save up gil for the triple digits of curatives they’re going to need when they go address the next step of Noct’s destiny. Ignis is the one hashing out the details - Prompto is honestly just grateful for the period of relative calm, when all they have to worry about is, like, taking down iron giants or whatever the fuck. Especially because it means he’s caught Noct on film smiling once or twice, for the first time since Insomnia fell, and that makes it all worth it and more.

But it also means, since they’re fairly relaxed, that Prompto has time to notice kinds of things he wouldn’t notice if he didn’t know Noct better than Noct. Like how - how, whenever they  _ do _ get back to Lestallum to sleep under a roof for a night or two between bounties, Noct crawls into bed with Ignis without even discussing it. After he and Prompto shared beds at sleepovers for  _ years. _

Well -  _ god _ knows Prompto is alright with sharing with Gladio, who’s huge and large and generally big, and radiates heat like a cast-iron stove, and doesn’t mind that Prompto is kind of touch-starved and wants to cuddle all the time. Like how ancient nomadic tribes used to bring their warhorses into their tents at night for their young children to snuggle up and sleep against their bellies. That’s how Prompto feels sharing a bed with Gladio.

“Thanks, I think,” says Gladio. “But Noct.”

Right, Noct. So, like, it’s a  _ little _ suspicious that he  _ always _ picks Ignis to bunk up with these days, and that Ignis tolerates this and even strokes his back to help him get to sleep, when  _ every  _ time Prompto has tried to snuggle with him Ignis goes so stiff and unaccommodating that Prompto gives up within a minute.

“Maybe that’s just because you always try to hang off his back when he’s cooking.”

Shut  _ up, _ that’s not all. Like, okay. It’s just common knowledge that Ignis dotes on Noct like a mother hen. But what about how Noct goes out every time they’re in town to buy more ingredients than they can fit in the trunk of the Regalia, just so Ignis can fuck around with fancy recipes? Or when he takes over the driver’s seat at night and puts on some easy listening shit Prompto  _ knows _ he doesn’t even really like? Or how, when Ignis gets to talking, telling stories around the campfire, wondering about what’s passed and what’s to come, dropping his stupid puns with such a smooth, polished posh accent that you don’t even notice til it’s too late-

“You’re sure  _ you’re _ not the one noticing Ignis?”

-Noct listens to him.  _ Really _ listens, like, watching him and making comments and looking a little less worried about everything than usual.

“Well,” says Gladio, “all right, you might know better than I do. But I still don’t know why you’re asking  _ me _ for help.”

“Oh, come  _ on,” _ Prompto groans. “Like  _ I’d _ know anything about romance. I’ve only even  _ kissed _ someone once.”

“Who?”

“Oh, no, I don’t kiss and tell-”

“His highness, then,” Gladio says, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Shut  _ up,” _ Prompto protests, smacking Gladio on the shoulder, which does exactly nothing. They’re lounged in adjacent chairs on the balcony of their room at the Leville, watching the sun set over the Disc of Cauthess. Noct and Ignis are out loading up on supplies, which means they don’t have to pack up for the next morning  _ quite _ yet, and that Prompto can ask Gladio to help him hook up their two best friends. “We were  _ fifteen. _ Anyway, that’s not the  _ point _ , the point is that, you, I  _ know _ you know things about romance. I always look at you and think, I just  _ know _ he fucks.”

“I do fuck,” Gladio concedes.

Prompto crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ve never even  _ dated _ anyone.”

“Don’t have to date someone to go to poundtown.” Gladio smirks down at him, wickedly suggestive, like a lazy tomcat. “Besides, don’t sell yourself short. You’re a catch, anyone’d be a fool to turn you down.”

“Thanks, big guy,” Prompto sighs. He hadn’t meant to fish for compliments. “But I still don’t know how to get our friends to date.”

“Well,” says Gladio slowly, “I guess we’d have to start by getting  _ them _ to think about it. You know,  _ consider  _ each other in a romantic manner first, make them want-”

“See, this is what I  _ mean,” _ Prompto interrupts. “I wouldn't even know where to start. C’mon, Gladio,  _ please. _ I need you for this.”

Gladio studies Prompto’s face, which is currently arranged into his very best kicked-puppy look, and then exhales a long, irritated sigh. “Fine. But only if you can  _ prove _ to me that there’s something between them. Otherwise we’re just all going to look like idiots.”

“Oh, I’ll get you proof-”

“I mean  _ real _ proof,” Gladio cuts him off sternly. “Not just a hunch. Like, soppy smiling at each other or something-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Prompto agrees, mind already racing. “I swear, I’ll - oh, speaking of.”

Noct and Ignis are approaching across the plaza below the Leville, both piled high with supplies from the marketplace. Prompto hops up and leans more than half out over the railing, waving. Gladio swears in surprise. “Jesus - just hang yourself out like the fuckin’ laundry, why don’t you-”

Gladio stands up to grasp him firmly by the back of his shirt, which kind of makes Prompto feel like a tiny, helpless kitten that’s about to get washed in the kitchen sink. He minds less than he should, probably.

“Throw down the keys, if you would,” calls Ignis.

The sunset is stretching its long, warm fingers over Lestallum, washing soft and rosy against Ignis’ high cheekbones. Prompto doesn’t mind looking at the guy on the average day anyway, but right now, he could fucking  _ tap-dance, _ because Noct is watching Ignis reach up to catch the keys Prompto tosses down, and it only lasts half a breath but you’d have to be  _ blind _ to miss the tenderness curling at the corners of his mouth.

Blind, or someone who hasn’t been friends with him for enough long years to learn the minutiae of his facial expressions. And fortunately, the guy holding him from falling over the railing right now is neither of those things.

Noct and Ignis disappear inside the doors of the Leville. Prompto wriggles out of Gladio’s grip and turns around to face him, leaning back on his elbows against the railing. “Did you  _ see?” _

“Well, shit,” says Gladio, frowning. “Huh. I’ll be damned.”

“So you’ll help me?” Prompto presses.

“Quit  _ lookin’ _ at me like that and maybe I will-”

“That’s a yes!” Prompto bounds into the hotel room after Gladio, pleased as punch. “On this next stint? Yeah?”

Gladio shakes his head. “Didn’t mean to have been convinced so quickly, but yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the prince look at someone like that. I’m in.”

“Hhehehhehehehehheh,” says Prompto.

“Alright, alright, enough of that.” Gladio catches him in a headlock and digs his knuckles into Prompto’s skull thoroughly before releasing him. “We’ve got packing t’do, y’lil shit.”

Prompto doesn’t say any more about it, especially once Noct and Ignis are back and they’re rolling up the tent and bundling up sleeping bags and dividing up ingredients.  _ Especially _ especially once they’re ready to sleep, and he wriggles under the sheets first and opens his arms for Gladio with a wide, inviting grin. Gladio rolls his eyes and flops down bodily on top of him, and lets Prompto suffocate for a good few minutes before letting him up and pulling him in tight against his chest.

He doesn’t say any more about it, but he’s excited as  _ hell. _ He wants to do this for Noct. And for Ignis. And with Gladiolus Amicitia at his side, he can do anything.

It’s all going to go  _ perfectly. _


	2. that's what she said

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gladio is a terrible texter and nobody can change my mind

**chocobutt98:** okay!!!!! hit me with the game plan one more time  
quick before Noct realizes you’re actually texting me and not reading Twilight on your phone again!!!!!!  
gladio?????  
you’re reading Twilight on your phone again aren't you.  
gladiooooo  
gladdy  
big guy  
sex machine  
cmonnnn I can hear your notifications coming in!!!!!!  
gladighhdjkaskjfklklgd

“Gotcha~” Noct singsongs, holding Prompto’s phone over his head. Prompto cries out in indignance, lunging over the back of the passenger seat and batting at his best friend. “Who are you even texting?” Noct cranes his head, trying to see the screen around Prompto’s flailing. “I’m pretty sure all your friends are in this car right now-”

 _“Give it-”_ Prompto’s seatbelt locks up, and with a cry of frustration he drops down to unbuckle it before launching himself directly into the back. He lands somewhere on the middle of the Regalia’s leather seat, ankle caught awkwardly on the console and elbow jabbing into Gladio’s thigh, which would be a problem if Gladio’s thigh weren’t the size and heft of a battering ram. Could probably storm the nearest castle with that thing. Smash, smash. Anyway. “C’mon, Noct!” He finally snatches the phone back and shoves it into his back pocket, sulking loudly.

“Man, I didn’t even see your screen,” Noct sighs. Good. “What were you even doing?” Crap.

“Can’t a guy tweet?” Good. Plausible. Noctis knows damn well that Prompto basically lives on Twitter.

Noct snorts. “You’ve gotta stop spending so much time online, dude.”

But thankfully, he seems to lose interest in the subject and goes back to his own phone, where Prompto is pretty sure he’s been playing Candy Crush for the past hour and a half. Prompto scrambles back into the front seat, pulling his phone from his pocket. One new notification.

“I do hope you’re careful about your social media presence,” Ignis is saying. “After all, we’re a rather skeletal crownsguard at the moment. The prince’s location must be a matter of the utmost secrecy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Prompto agrees, only half-listening. “No worries, Specs, I only post landscape pics. The selfies are _juuuuuust_ for us.” Ignis’ eyes are on the road, but Prompto winks at him anyway. It’s the principle of the thing. “I don’t have any friends who follow me anyway, so I don’t think anyone who follows me there even knows who I am.”

“I follow you,” Noct points out, saving Prompto from having to cover up the fact that he’s basically just admitted he doesn’t really have friends.

“Yeah, on your _fishing_ account. That probably makes me _less_ cool in the eyes of the law.” Prompto twists around, leaning over the back of his seat to frown at his best friend. “You only have four followers and two of them are porn bots.”

“Ignis,” says Noct, in that imperious voice he uses when he’s feeling particularly petty, “slam on the brakes right now.”

 _“Ig-”_ is all the protest Prompto has time to get out before the car stops moving and Prompto’s body keeps going. Ignis presses down on the gas again after just half a heartbeat, but Prompto’s already skidded halfway to the dashboard, and he lets out a piteous whine as he rights himself. _“Iggy-”_

Ignis is smirking. Asshole. “Orders, I’m afraid. Forgive me?”

“Only if you do that next time Noct sits on the top of the car, too.”

“That would be high treason,” Ignis says, in his high-court voice, which sounds kind of like if you put a red velvet cupcake in a gramophone.

 _“Man,”_ Prompto grumbles, and settles down into his seat.

He watches out the window for a bit as the road curves down away from Lestallum, through the tunnel and then further. The morning is clear and sunny, and there’s just enough breeze to ruffle Prompto’s hair and settle into his chest with some of that good old _joie de vivre_ that he only ever manages to really capture on the road with his three best friends. Ignis has even put on what passes for _upbeat_ if all you listen to is smooth jazz.

The phone notification is from Noct. Uh oh.

 **luciancarpfan12:** so

 **chocobutt98:** ……….…what

 **luciancarpfan12:** why are you texting gladio from two feet away

 **chocobutt98:** what????? why would i be texting gladio  
im not sure i even have gladios number!!!!!

 **luciancarpfan12:** i saw your screen prompto

 **chocobutt98:** 8[  
let me live!!!!!!!

 **luciancarpfan12:** no way

Just then, a notification from Gladio pops up. _Finally._

 **gladiolusamicitia:** sry ws rdng

 **chocobutt98:** yeah, big guy, i know  
so!!!!!!! plan

New notif - but not from Gladio-

 **luciancarpfan12:** youre doing it again  
spill

 **chocobutt98:** let me LIVE

Prompto huffs and switches back to the other chat window.

 **gladiolusamicitia:** ya u gt nct?  
hs lrdy pnng shdnt b hrd

 **chocobutt98:** yeah i’m on it!!!!!!!!

Right. The mission.

 **chocobutt98:** changing the subject!!!!!!  
dont you ever like  
think about dating stuff??????  
like…………..  
idk  
wouldnt it be hard to do that?????? with our lifestyle????????????  
we dont really have choices out here on the road like this…………………...

 **luciancarpfan12:** …oh  
lol

 **chocobutt98:** ???????  
cmon i know you and luna are both gay as hell so

 **luciancarpfan12:** lol dw i get it  
;)

 **chocobutt98:** ????????????????????

 **luciancarpfan12:** lol  
yeah ive thought about it ;)

 **chocobutt98:** lol okay!!!!!!!!!  
well thats that then!!!!!!!!!

Prompto nods to himself and switches back to his chat with Gladio.

 **chocobutt98:** he’s thinking about it!!! i think???  
he was kind of weird about it but that’s just noct!!!!!

 **gladiolusamicitia:** hl ys  
lts jst lv thm aln ths ftrnn nd c wt hpns  
rmnc s smthng u lt blsm

 **chocobutt98:** alright alright please go back to twilight!!!!!!!!

 **gladiolusamicitia:** midnight sun  
its a dffrnt versn

 **chocobutt98:** oh THAT’S what gets you to use vowels  >:(

 **gladiolusamicitia:** its a rly gd look at edwards thghts  
so it strts off on blls vry frst day

 **chocobutt98:** God have mercy

[cut for length]

Fortunately, they don’t need much of an excuse to leave Noct and Ignis alone together that afternoon, since setting up camp at the haven goes fairly quickly and their current bounty, a small pack of ice bombs, is afraid of the light. Prompto makes some bullshit excuse about checking out the golden hour light over the Alstor Slough, finagles an even more bullshit excuse about needing Gladio along for protection, and heads out, throwing a wink over his shoulder at Noct as he goes. Hopefully a hint that obvious will get through even his highness’ precious, adorable, thick little skull.

Noct winks back. _Awesome._

* * *

The slough isn’t far. Prompto splashes around in the shallows and gets his boots muddy for a while, snapping close-ups of reeds and dragonflies and one unimpressed-looking frog. Gradually, the sun starts to settle into its descent, and he raises his photo to the skyline, too - the disc looming above them, the little breezes scuffing and rippling out over the water.

Gladio, in direct opposition to all their bullshit about _protection,_ sprawls out on a patch of tufty lake-grass and immediately starts dozing in the sun. His arms are folded over his head, which Prompto is pretty sure he's doing exclusively to highlight his biceps. To Prompto's perpetual resentment, it works. Asshole.

The afternoon stretches on. Prompto swaps out his lenses and snaps some long-distance shots of a few grazing anaks, turns it back in the vague direction of the haven (nothing is visible through the trees, but it's the principle of the thing). On a moment's thought, he pulls out his phone too, and sends a snapchat of the same view to Noct and Ignis with the caption _miss u xoxo been a while we should hang sometime._

Neither of them opens it. Maybe they're _banging._ Prompto looks up to run this thought by Gladio - and then stops short, raising his camera to his eye on sheer instinct. Gladio's tank top has ridden up a little, exposing one narrow strip of skin and the V of his hipbones where they disappear into his jeans. His eyelashes are long over his cheeks, the sunlight soaking golden-brown into his skin and the lines of his arms. Like he's something carved in marble.

Gladio must hear the shutter, because he opens one eye - catches Prompto's gaze. He opens the other eye too and gives Prompto a lazy grin, eyes warm and amber. "Like what you see?"

This is downright rude. Prompto puts the camera between himself and the offensive grin. _Click._ "You _know_ you're photogenic as hell, big guy."

"Yeah?" Gladio props himself up on his elbows, voice low and amused. _Click._ "Well, you do like to capture the wildlife."

Aaaaand there’s the Gladio he knows. "Does that line usually work on the girls?"

"You tell me, you feeling seduced?"

"So seduced," Prompto agrees. "Carry me away in your arms, hotshot. Has it _ever_ worked on a girl? Like, ever?"

 _"Hey,"_ says Gladio. "I definitely get the most ass out of the four of us. More than the rest of you combined, probably."

Prompto waves this off. "That's just because Iggy and Noct are pining after each other all the time." He carefully avoids mentioning his own tendencies. Girls don't tend to be impressed by him, not next to his three friends, and if they are, hearing him talk for a few minutes takes care of that quite quickly. And guys that swing that way are hard to find in the first place, let alone ones who swing that way for _him._ Nothin' wrong with rubbing one out in an outpost bathroom once in a while to keep yourself sane. "They _miiiight_ be smashing each other’s brains out right now, actually."

"Oh? Noct text you or something?"

"Nah, but." Prompto wiggles his eyebrows. "I sent a snapchat, and _neither_ of them opened it."

"Maybe," says Gladio, "they just aren't the kinds of people who spend twenty minutes every day trying all the different filters at every possible angle."

"I'm cute as hell with the puppy one and you know it."

"Can't deny it," says Gladio. He pats the grass next to himself. "Hey, help me pick some of these?" He nods at a determined little patch of asters that's flowering nearby. "Keep the stems kinda long."

Prompto’s feeling pretty pastoral or content or whatever, so he sits down and they pick flowers. There's birds chirping and frogs peeping and a breeze off the lake and all sorts of other peaceful bucolic shit going on, and honestly, this is the first time Prompto's felt calm enough to be really quiet in a while.

(Prompto doesn't really do _quiet_ much. Unless they're on some sort of stealth mission, and it's hard even then; he's earned more than a few furious glares from Gladio when he's whispered a little too loudly. But hey, what can he say, his head tends to go a mile a minute and the filter between there and his mouth is less of a filter and more of an open flume. Even if the rest of the group is quiet - out of exhaustion, pensiveness, or just being the exercise in awkwardness that is Noct - Prompto hums, sings snatches of songs, taps out rhythms on the side of the Regalia with the hand he's draped out the window, quotes snatches of songs and radio shows he's heard lately.

He used to worry about it, when he and Noct were young enough to share a bed at sleepovers, when Prompto tucked himself in right at Noct's side every Friday night and chattered away about everything and anything that flitted through his head until he looked over to see his best friend fast asleep and drooling a little on the pillow. Worried he was being annoying, boring, too much, not enough. But then one day, in a rare display of an emotion, Noct had told him that hearing Prompto's voice helped him calm down at night, and since then, Prompto has never been much worried about what anyone else thinks.)

"This is really nice," Prompto murmurs, breaking the silence.

"Mm," Gladio agrees.

Then he takes out his switchblade and flicks it open, which is apparently something he doesn't feel the need to explain. Prompto opens his mouth, closes it again, and manages to get out a, "What're, uh, what're ya doin' there, big guy?"

Gladio picks up an aster from their pile and draws a long slit down the side of the stem with the point of his knife. Carefully, he slides a second stem into the opening, linking the flowers together, and raises an eyebrow at Prompto.

"Are - are you making a _flower crown?"_

Gladio frowns at him as he draws the next slit in the stem of the second flower. "I _did_ grow up with a baby sister, don’t say it so pejoratively.”

"Pretty sure that’s the longest word I’ve ever heard you use.” Prompto dodges the obligatory swat for that; he deserves it and it was worth it. “It's just... weirdly cute. You know, for-" He waves a vague hand at Gladio's everything- "your, for you."

"I'm _cute,"_ Gladio says, sounding injured.

"Yeah, but you're six foot six - you know what, actually, I'm just pick you some more flowers."

"There's a good boy."

When they finish, Gladio ties off the last flower to form a loop and places the crown delicately on his head. He spreads his arms. "Cute?"

 _"Adorable,"_ says Prompto, with feeling. He snickers as the asters droop down over Gladio’s forehead, camera already in hand as he leans back to capture the twinkle in Gladio's eye.

He keeps taking pictures, as Gladio strikes poses like he'll always deny that he loves to do. It _is_ ridiculously cute, until Prompto gets bored and puts his camera aside to stuff a handful of grass down Gladio’s tank top. Gladio growls and pounces on Prompto like a wolverine on a clumsy baby fawn, and though Prompto struggles mightily, it’s not long at all til Gladio’s got him facedown with his arm chicken-winged behind his back, dust grinding into his lips as he frantically slaps the ground twice.

Gladio lets him up, smirking his horrible I’m-Gladio-and-I-emerged-from-the-womb-built-like-a-brick-shithouse-and-I-just-kicked-your-ass-again smirk, and Prompto wipes his mouth on the back of his hand as he springs to his feet. Adrenaline is rushing in his veins, and the dirt feels good against his bare arms. “Rematch?”

Gladio snorts. “What, think you can go more than ten seconds this time?”

“That’s what she said,” Prompto says, on sheer instinct, and graciously accepts Gladio’s high-five. “C’mon, just one more go.”

“If I give you one more, you’re going to lose and want a rematch from _that,”_ says Gladio, with great and noble impatience. “And that’ll happen thirty times in a row.”

It’s true. They spar in camp sometimes, when Prompto’s sparking with too much extra energy left over from the day, when it’s eleven P.M. and he’s still talking a mile a minute and Ignis gives Gladio the _please do something to tire him out i want to get to bed tonight_ look, and Prompto hasn’t won once. He can shoot circles around Gladio, but when it comes to physicality, there’s not a chance. But still- “And maybe I’ll win the thirty-first, c’mon.”

“Won’t tonight be enough to satisfy you? Oh, that’s what-”

“That’s what she-”

“She said-”

“Anyway,” says Prompto. “Ice bombs don’t count, they don’t have your body heat.”

 _“Body heat?_ What, did your parents not hug you enough when you were a kid or something?”

Prompto doesn’t say anything.

“Oh,” says Gladio.

He sounds incredibly awkward. Which is worse than the no-hugging thing, honestly. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, hotshot,” Prompto says, mustering up a weak chuckle. “I’m a big boy now.”

“You’re twenty years old and tiny,” Gladio says, sounding stern from the ripe old age of twenty-three. “Are you telling me you keep starting wrestling matches because it’s the closest you can get to cuddling?”

“Well, when you say it like that, it sounds pathetic,” Prompto mumbles.

“What’s pathetic,” Gladio says firmly, “is not asking for what you need. Come on over here.”

He yoinks Prompto into his arms before Prompto can say a word, and - honestly, he’d protest but Gladio feels so _good,_ so broad and warm and oh god he’s rubbing Prompto’s back, firm and soothing circles with a hand that’s as big as Prompto’s forearm, and Prompto makes a helpless little noise as he melts against Gladio’s chest. Sure, he shares with Gladio at motels, but that’s rarely more than once every few weeks and he never knows how to _ask_ without sounding like the kind of emotionally difficult loser who hasn’t earned a place in so much as Noct’s car let alone his _Crownsguard_ and-

“Quit thinking,” Gladio rumbles against his cheek. He squeezes then, effortless with his strength.

Prompto lets out another tiny desperate sound that’s half from actually being squeezed and half just pure _want,_ and follows his advice.

After several long, wonderful moments, Prompto exhales a huge sigh and disentangles himself from Gladio’s huge cannonball biceps. He hops up, bouncing from one foot to another with a goofy smile. “Okay, okay. Okay.”

“Better?” asks Gladio.

“Just a little bit.” Prompto grins down at him, still warm and kind of melty from the hug. “I still wanna wrestle, though.” Gladio opens his arms again, cocking an eyebrow. _“Actually_ wrestle, big guy.”

Gladio snorts and climbs to his feet, linking his fingers together and stretching his arms out in front of him. “Alright, then. Prepare to get your ass destroyed.”

“That’s what she said,” Prompto tells him, and cackles in delight at the pun even as Gladio hits him like a one-man steam train.

* * *

When they get back to camp that evening, the sunset is rosy and warm on Gladio’s cheeks and glimmering golden-red in his hair. They’re talking and laughing as they walk, but as they climb up to the haven itself, they fall silent - Ignis is raising a finger to his lips as he catches sight of them. He’s sitting on the ground, back against the big rock where he always prepares dinner - and in his lap, there’s a tousle of blue-black hair, where he’s winding his bare hand through the strands.

Prompto stops short. Ignis has taken off his _gloves_ , which is amazing in itself. But - he’s not reading. He’s not planning. His brow doesn’t have that furrow in it. He - he doesn’t look _stressed._ (Which makes him barely recognizable in itself, honestly.) And Noct is fast asleep at his side, head pillowed comfortably on Ignis’ thigh, apparently holding him down with the sheer weight of princely presence and royal chutzpah and that kind of shit.

(He's probably drooling on Ignis’ pants right now. Astrals, Prompto loves him.)

“He’s napping,” Ignis says, soft and gentle as his hand in Noct’s hair.

“You’re too soft on him,” Gladio chides. But his voice is carefully pitched too low to disturb the prince, so Prompto figures he’s none to talk either.

For his own part, he sees no reason to ignore how adorable this is. He coos softly and raises his camera to snap pictures of them at every angle - Ignis’ smile, his hand in Noct’s hair, Noct’s careless sprawl like some proud young demigod. (Hey, not every photographer is lucky enough to have an incredibly beautiful best friend.) It’s going great until he tries to get a close-up of Noct’s face. When he slips, with a quiet curse, the front of his lens bumps directly into Noct’s nose.

And of course _that’s_ what can wake Noct up. His eyes flutter open, and he manages to get out a fuzzy, thick word- “Prom?”

Prompto does the only thing a best friend can do in that situation, which is to immediately flick on his flash and snap the bright shot directly in Noctis’ eyes.

Noct squints at him balefully, even though his lips are curling up at the prank. “Just for that, I’m going back to sleep.”

“Actually,” Ignis interjects, barely a murmur, “I’m afraid it is almost time for dinner.”

Noct lets out a long yawn, and then a sigh, languid and imperious. “Alright, alright, I’m up.”

Ignis strokes his hair one last time before letting him up. When he’s pretty sure Ignis can’t see, Prompto quietly holds out his hand for Gladio’s low-five.

_Plan? Success._

Once Ignis is up, he looks at Prompto and Gladio for real and frowns at their disheveled state. “Goodness, you two are a sight. Did you run into trouble?”

Prompto grins. “Just each other.”

Noct lets out an undignified snort, which is interrupted by Gladio sternly clarifying, “I won. Every time.”

_“But I’ll win the next-”_

“Well, I suppose we’re hunting tonight anyway,” Ignis concedes. “On that note, it won’t do to head into battle on an empty meal. Gladio, if you wouldn’t mind chopping the peppers?”

* * *

They stumble back into camp around two a.m. - well, Prompto stumbles; Noct had an afternoon nap and Ignis is as impeccably put-together as always and Gladio refuses to ever show a weakness of the flesh - and curl up in the tent together, in a heap of bodies that always makes Prompto feel kind of like a clumsy little puppy in a warm pile of his littermates. (Which usually then kind of makes him want to cry when he thinks about it, but, you know.)

He does pull out his camera to flip through before he goes to bed, a nighttime ritual that even the odd hours they keep lately can’t break him of. Noct rests his cheek against Prompto's shoulder as he scrolls, and Ignis props himself up on an elbow to watch from Noct's other side, and Gladio is watching like a hawk for good images of himself, so at least Prompto isn't the only one staying up late to look at pictures.

There's the Lestallum sunrise over the Disc. There's a few shots of Ignis in profile as he drives, a series of selfies with Noct, Gladio reading, Gladio realizing he’s being photographed and looking up from _New Moon_ with a half-formed smile on his lips. A blurry photo of Noct, entangled in the ruins of the tent he somehow _still_ doesn't fully know how to set up.

“There's our king,” sighs Ignis, sounding entirely too fond.

And then the pictures from the lake - assorted beauties of the natural world that Prompto will probably tweet as soon as he gets to a computer, the unremarkable photo of the trees where the haven would be, twenty or so shots of the same frog. Gladio, napping in the sun. Gladio stirring awake with that dangerous lazy smile. Gladio with the chain of asters drooping over his eye, laughing. Gladio disheveled and dirt-streaked from their wrestling match, grinning like a feral wolf. Gladio silhouetted in the sunset.

“Did I _ask_ you to take more photos of Gladio?” Noct inquires.

“Oh, c’mon, we spent all afternoon together.” Prompto nudges his side with an elbow. “If you're jealous, _you_ come spend an afternoon with me.”

“Think I will.”

Besides the photos of Ignis and Noct that afternoon, that's most of it - Prompto hates nighttime photography unless he has a tripod at hand, but there's a couple of selfies with Ice Bombs that were just too damn good to let go. In one of them, a harsh white cloud of ice crystals is blowing directly at Prompto's grinning face. Ignis makes that noise of his that sounds like a broken washing machine but actually indicates worry, and Noct says, “Nice,” which are both signs that it’s a good one.

“Next time you take a selfie mid-battle, I'm confiscating your camera for a week,” Gladio rumbles against his back.

“Try it and they'll need dental records to identify you,” Prompto says darkly.

And then exhaustion hits them all at once. Prompto shoves his camera back into its bag and goes through the obligate _poke-eyes-curse-loudly-get-dirt-on-the-inside-of-the-lens-case_ ritual of taking out his contacts in the dark after a hunt. Ignis folds his own glasses carefully; Noct tilts his head back onto his pillow and appears to be asleep within seconds, though Prompto always doubts that that’s actually possible.

It’s a little cold, and Prompto never remembers to pack more pajamas than his chocobo boxers. He curls up on his side, facing Noct and trying not to shiver.This is, of course, the usual state of affairs, and not really something he notices until Gladio slings an arm over his small frame and pulls him in _tight._

A swiftly-aborted squeak tears itself from Prompto’s throat. He squirms a little - to no avail; Gladio’s got him well-trapped. _Is this - is this because of what happened this afternoon-?_ He tries to twist around to ask, but even that much mobility is stifled by the brick fucking wall of pectorals that seems to have sprung up directly behind him.

Prompto lets out a tiny whine, one that wouldn’t be audible if the listener weren’t spooning him with all the force of a determined Dualhorn. If they weren’t occupying him like newly conquered imperial territory. Like he’s under sudden military rule in the form of one brick shithouse whose sole martial goal is to keep him warm and comfortable and oh, _god,_ it’s so comfortable. Prompto exhales, shaky, and wriggles back against Gladio’s broad, firm chest.

Gladio shakes with a silent laugh, and pats Prompto’s hip before settling in to snore loudly against his hair.

Prompto grins like an absolute geek into the darkness.

And then - two texts from Noct, just before he passes out for good.

 **luciancarpfan12:** you know i think youre right  
love is definitely in the air

 **chocobutt98:** ;)


	3. shooting your shot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic wasn't supposed to have an emotion in it hwat the fcuk
> 
> fair warning there's a hunt that gets described in some detail in this (i.e. things get kinda violent); to skip it ctrl+f from "Upon reflection, it was." to “Fuck, are you okay?”

Coming up on halfway through their stint, Noct announces that he needs a _personal day._

Prompto wishes that _he_ could ask for a personal day, sometimes. Like, when it’s been ten days since he touched water. On the outside, that is. There’s usually plenty of water on his insides. Anyway. Like when it’s been ten days since he touched water, and they come across the _perfect_ little swimming hole at a creek somewhere, and there’s even sand that they could use to scrub down and _Gladio bought biodegradable soap just for this, didn’t he?_ But no, they’ve gotta go kill some gigantic bees or whatever the fuck.

The thing is, though, when Noct says he needs a _personal day,_ he doesn’t mean swimming. He means that he’s sucked all the elemental energy, fire and ice and lightning, from the deposits near the havens they’ve been staying at, and he needs to sit in camp for twelve hours and forge it all into spells.

Like, sure, it’s pretty sick that Prompto can throw the equivalent of a Gralean cocktail back at their enemies when they fight ice demons. The little fuckers _sizzle._ But watching Noct make pretty lights and smoosh them down into those little glass flasks with, like, a broken watch or something to make them a teeny bit stronger gets old after, like, five minutes.

“Quit bitching and read the results,” says Gladio. “He’s just gonna go slower if he hears you complaining about it.”

“Jeez, okay. So, uh, you’re gonna live in…” Prompto squints down at the paper. “A shack.”

“That hardly makes sense,” Ignis argues. “Why would Gladio live anywhere but with Noct?”

“You can’t take the _shack_ out of _MASH!”_

“Maybe Noct wanted to live in a shack. Wouldn’t put it past him.” Gladio leans over, squinting at the paper. “What’d I get for number of pets?”

“Uh… Forty-five cats.”

 _“Definitely_ living with Noct,” Ignis sighs.

Gladio fumbles for the pad and pen. “Gimme that, let’s do you next.”

“You can do me any day, big guy,” Prompto says absentmindedly, handing it over. “Here ya go.”

“Really, you two are exhausting,” Ignis mumbles.

They’ve gotten through Ignis having fourteen children - _I’ve already got you three and that’s too many_ \- by the time Noct finishes with the spells and moves on to brewing potions and elixirs. He’s pulled several thirty-racks of energy drinks out of the armiger, where they keep them for exactly this purpose. The liquid is just a base, Noct had explained to Prompto once, on a too-long car ride where he got into the chemistry of it all. The healing comes from the Lucis Caeli themselves.

(“You always make me feel healed, buddy,” Prompto had told him.

“Dude, shut up,” said Noct, which meant he was touched.)

Noct always uses Crimson Garula, one of those liquid-caffeine drinks, as a base. Prompto’s never actually figured out why. “Why d’you always use Crimson Garula?” he calls over to the other side of the haven.

“I use Daemon for the elixirs,” Noct counters. He’s surrounded by a little fortress of cans.  Some of them just look like normal Crimson Garula, but some are swirling with an unearthly green light.

“You ever think about asking him if he can make those from Ebony?” Prompto says to Ignis.

“I’d hardly consider that a dignified use of royal magic,” Ignis says. Prompto isn’t dissuaded, though. Calling things undignified is just one of Ignis’ instinctive responses to things. He has a set of phrases like that, stuff he has to say so often it’s become automatic. _That’s it, I’ve come up with a new recipeh!_ and _Noct, there’s something on your face, let me get that_ and _no more Octavia and the Coeurls in the car._ Like an Iggy-shaped robot. Beep, beep. Hey, he does look a little interested. “Although-”

“No way,” Gladio interjects, not looking up from the copy of Eclipse he’s pulled from the armiger. “What if Prompto accidentally downed it in the middle of a battle? He’d probably ralph.”

“Oh,” says Prompto. There’s no arguing with that one.

“Ah,” says Ignis. They lapse into silence again.

“This is the saddest conversation I’ve ever heard,” Noct calls from the other side of the haven. “Don’t you guys have anything better to do?”

“Not really,” Prompto mumbles. He turns to Gladio. “Wanna teach me how to fish?”

Gladio looks up from his book and cocks one eyebrow. “You don’t want to learn how to fish.”

“I really, really don’t,” Prompto sighs, and slumps down.

* * *

He takes a lot of pictures of the sun inching across the sky, and of Ignis standing on Gladio’s shoulders like a cheerleader, and of Noctis stockpiling magic potions like a raccoon hoarding a nestful of shiny gum wrappers. Noct bans them all from the haven once his can fortress has grown into a small can town and Gladio accidentally kicks over the Can Citadel.

Ignis corners Gladio into bringing their stove and cast-iron pans to the nearest brook for scrubbing, which is probably a task that could take the next decade if they let it. They head off, talking quietly together. Prompto finds somewhere upstream to watch the minnows swim around.

Mostly out of boredom, he remembers, abruptly, that he has a mission right now. He pulls out his phone, and taps out-

 **chocobutt98:** hey noct!!!!

He doesn’t really expect Noct to text back, but soon enough-

 **luciancarpfan12:** what are you guys even doing  
it’s so quiet here

 **chocobutt98:** i’m looking at fish it’s so boring  >>>.<<<  
why are you texting???? go rebuild can town!!!!

 **luciancarpfan12:** you texted ME  
fish aren’t boring  
besides i’m taking a break rn, i’m tired

 **chocobutt98:** UGGHHHH whatever  
dude have you ever thought

 **luciancarpfan12:** no but go on

 **chocobutt98:** that ignis looks kind of hot when he’s pissed off??????  
i know i know shhhh

 **luciancarpfan12:** ?  
what brought that on

 **chocobutt98:** im just asking!!!!!!  
like idk when he criticizes me and gladio for, whatever it is he’s always criticizing us about  
doesnt he just have this LOOK about him??????????

 **luciancarpfan12:** …prompto  
are you trying to tell me you’re into ignis?

 **chocobutt98:** NO!!!!!!!!!  
ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!!!  
in my head he’s a sexless creature and I want him to STAY that way!!!!

 **luciancarpfan12:** wow harsh  
you were just complimenting his looks a lot, no need to drag the guy

It occurs to Prompto that this is not going as planned. He scrambles for an angle.

 **chocobutt98:** wait so _you_ think he’s sexy though??????  
eyes emoji x100

 **luciancarpfan12:** he’s not bad on the eyes i guess

 **chocobutt98:** ooh  
that’s more like it!!!!

 **luciancarpfan12:** like what exactly  
you SURE you’re not into him?

 **chocobutt98:** N

 **luciancarpfan12:** hahahahahaha  
relax i’m teasing  
we all know your type

 **chocobutt98:** uh yeah NOT IGNIS  
wait whats that supposed to mean????

 **luciancarpfan12:** idk give it some thought  
anyway im going to make more elixirs, bye

 **chocobutt98:** wait noct!!!!!  
noct!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
ughhhhhhhhhh

 

Prompto frowns at his phone. That did not go at all as he expected it to.

His battery is starting to falter, after a day and a half away from the Regalia, but there’s only one person he can talk to openly about this.

 **chocobutt98:** hey big guy, you around?

 **gladiolusamicitia:** .

 **chocobutt98:** ok so i just talked to noct and tried to ask him if he finds ignis hot or not  
but i accidentally pushed it too much and now i think he thinks IM into ignis :(((

 **gladiolusamicitia:** lol  
r u?

 **chocobutt98:** not you too!!!!!!!!  
he’s not my type!!!!!!!!!!!

 **gladiolusamicitia:** ya? whts yr typ?

 **chocobutt98:** idk!!!!!! tall dark and handsome???? deep voice?????  
back in insomnia i wouldve ridden nyx ulric off into the sunset  
but he was too old and now he’s dead  
and it’s not like i have much of a chance to talk to people now anyway

It’s also not like anyone out here would look twice at him, next to his three friends. But he’s not about to guilt Gladio over that.

 **chocobutt98:** besides that’s not the point!!!!!  
what if we were wrong???  
what if noct isn’t into ignis at all??????  
it’s gonna make things so awkward!!!!!

 **gladiolusamicitia:** rlx  
thy cnvncd me rmmbr

 **chocobutt98:** oh yeah

 **gladiolusamicitia:** bt we cn stp tryng dlbrtly to st thm up  
if u wnt  
lttng it dvlp ntrlly mght b bttr

 **chocobutt98:** ??? what do you mean??????

 **gladiolusamicitia:** ive bn thnkng  
iggys smrt he prbly knws hs nto nct  
n nct chses wht he wnts evn whn he dsnt knw he wnts it  
if thy hvnt dn nythng abt it thy mght nt wnt to

 **chocobutt98:** D: !!!!!!!  
why wouldn’t they?????  
it’s not like we have anything to lose rn

 **gladiolusamicitia:** smtms ppl r rly afraid to say wht they feel  
maybe its easier for them to just live w it

 **chocobutt98:** ?????

 **gladiolusamicitia:** think abt it

Prompto’s phone dies pretty shortly afterwards, which leaves him a good few hours before Noct will let them back into the haven, so he lies back on the rock in the middle of the stream and stares at the sky and thinks about it.

 _Would_ it be better if they didn’t do anything? Sure, it might go bad if Ignis and Noct started dating. But that could go for _any_ relationship. Right? Is Gladio worried because of royal duties? Everyone knows that Luna and Noct are both gay (pretty much the whole Citadel knew, in a kind of hush-hush way) and Gladio’s not the type to get hung up on the formalities of having a royal consort when both people know about it and are fine with it. So it’s gotta be something about Ignis and Noct themselves.

 _Afraid to say what they feel?_ Maybe it’s the commitment of taking the plunge - it’s not like Prompto has ever really been enough in love with someone to worry about that. Actually, now that he thinks about it, Gladio’s dated a ton of people before. Shit, maybe he _is_ right. Maybe it’s not worth risking what you already have with someone. Maybe - wait, were those _vowels_ he saw in those last texts?

What the _heck_ is up with Gladio?

* * *

Nothing happens in the next few days anyway, though, because after taking the day off, they’re back to hunting dawn til dusk, usually later. Prompto hardly has time to breathe, let alone think about the sweet, sweet love that Ignis should be making to his best friend right now. He falls asleep in the Regalia on the way home pretty much every night, after yanking the seatbelt to lock it and make a place to rest his head.

(He doesn’t ever remember waking up to stumble from car to tent, but he still finds himself there every morning, buried in his sleeping bag and squashed against Gladio’s big beautiful chest, with vague memories of being cradled in strong arms and the scent of campfire and sweat and musky deodorant.)

After day six, Noct announces that they’re doing a daytime-only hunt the next day. Prompto is excited about this until he sees Noct’s wicked smile and remembers something terrible.

When they were in Lestallum, Gladio and Noctis had been dicking around at the marketplace when they discovered that the guy at the grill place would pay them for hunts too, and came back with a few bounty sheets. One of the sheets had a creature with wings and claws. A very large creature with wings and claws.

“I'll just bring that one back,” Prompto had said graciously, before Noct could realize and be embarrassed by his mistake.

Noct had snatched the paper out of Prompto's reach and given him the kind of smirk usually worn by, like, old ladies who kill puppies for fun.

“Ah,” said Prompto, wondering if it was too late to find a new best friend.

Upon reflection, it was. And so he finds himself, on the seventh day of their stint, shooting off a steady stream of bullets at a fucking griffon. Most of which miss. His chest is heaving, more to do with fear than exertion. Not much use dashing around when your target can dive-bomb you anywhere you move. He’s been knocked near-unconscious a few times already, saved only by Ignis’ rescue and a few spare potions.

It’s a lovely, clear day in the grasslands of Cleigne. Sunny, with enough of a breeze to be pleasant but not cold. The griffon lets out a furious screech and plummets down towards Prompto, bloodstained claws first.

“Look out!” Ignis calls, uselessly. Prompto grits his teeth and bends his knees, ready to spring out of the thing’s way.

Then there’s a grunt, and the clang of claws on steel. For a moment, the sunlight’s blocked as a huge, gleaming shield braces itself above Prompto’s head.

“Keep your head in the game,” Gladio snarls as the griffon wheels off for another pass.

Prompto doesn’t take it personally. He can see the frustration in the guy’s shoulders. The only person who can really get blood out of this quarry is Noct, given that he can fucking teleport. Probably why the hunt was posted in the first place.

Noct hasn’t touched the ground since the griffon first attacked, actually. Ever since Insomnia fell, he’s has been throwing himself into battle with a ferocity that borders on recklessness, and when Prompto catches glimpses of him holding still - usually hanging one-handed from his sword, which is jammed into either a nearby cell tower that he’s using to point-warp or the chest of the creature itself - he’s pounding potions like there’s no tomorrow. With a shimmer of blue, he warps through the air again, slamming hard enough into its golden-brown body that Prompto winces.

“Gladio!” Ignis calls. “He’s knocked it low enough for an attack!”

“Gotcha!” Gladio calls back, already halfway to the creature where it’s hanging about five feet off the ground. He hasn’t gotten in a single strike with his greatsword yet today, and Prompto can practically _feel_ the vicious satisfaction of the blow thunking into the griffon’s body.

The griffon falls to the ground, dazed - and finally, _finally_ all four of them have a fair shot at it. Noct seems to have been waiting for this, because suddenly he’s on the ground again and the royal arms are spinning around him in electric-magic blue as he advances towards the beast.

“Ready, fellas?” he shouts.

Prompto’s head snaps up at the words. Icy-blue adrenaline courses through his blood, and he’s springing to Noct’s side before his mind can even catch up with the reaction. Ignis and Gladio take their positions too, and the four of them leap forward.

They all always have access to the armiger. (Heck, Prompto keeps _condoms_ in there. You never know.) But this is the royal arms themselves, spinning and slashing and slicing in Prompto’s hands. The ancient power of the Lucian kings, the power of the gods - and, as Prompto always thinks of it in his head, the power of _Noct,_ which is the part that always makes him feel like he’s holding the whole sky in his lungs.

He fires a blaze of white light from a scepter against the griffon’s shuddering chest. Gladio slams a battleaxe down into its crooked spine. Ignis sinks a pair of swords into its torn golden fur. And finally, Noct slashes down across its throat, blade slicing through bloodstained feathers and torn flesh.

The griffon screams, gurgles out its last, and then goes still.

For a moment, they pause, breath coming hard and heavy.

“Nice one,” says Gladio after a moment, the frustration from earlier fading from his voice. And then they’re all moving again, starting to clean up.

This is always Prompto's least favorite part of the hunt. When they're done, and the adrenaline of the fight fades, and the stink and slick of blood sink in, and there's echoes of animal screams in his ears and something innocent lying dead on the ground in front of him. It's easier with demons, who pretty much exist to kill, but with the warm-blooded beasts - well, Prompto can never help but feel that humans weren't meant to be part of the circle of life like this.

Mostly he deals with it by singing little victory jingles as Noct goes about carving out the breast meat.

“Someone's excited,” Gladio observes, smile in his voice.

“You bet!” says Prompto. Maybe he'll go vegetarian when this all ends. If this all ends. Noct’s sword pricks through the griffon's lungs, and the air puffs out of them with a wet hiss. “Hey, I gotta go, uh, take a shit.” He heads abruptly towards the nearest boulder large enough to conceal his body, about a hundred yards off.

“Cover your cathole,” Gladio reminds him.

“I know that!” Prompto tosses over his shoulder. He squats down behind the boulder and immediately throws up his breakfast.

“Cool,” he says aloud to the little puddle, looking at the undigested grains of rice amongst the grass. “Awesome.”

Behind him, he can hear the squelches and fleshy rips of Noct carving the creature up. No waste. They can’t just leave carcasses lying around - they eat the meat, sell the feathers or whatever they can glean, Gladio sometimes takes the hides to merchants in town. Makes sense. It’s respectful to the creature. Makes it more than a senseless slaughter. More than food for maggots. Oh god, maggots. Prompto dry heaves again. Awesome.

“Oh, shit,” says the last voice Prompto wants to hear right now. “Fuck, are you okay?”

Prompto wonders if he can teach himself to go invisible on command.

“I'm alright,” he says when that fails. “Sorry. Just-”

He doesn't really have an explanation, so he stops there. Gladio sits down next to him. The puke is drying in the grass on his other side.

“First time I killed something,” Gladio says, “just a deer, when I was hunting with my dad, I cried like a little kid.”

 _“Were_ you a little kid?”

“I was eleven,” Gladio concedes. “Already near as tall as you are, though.”

“Hey, don’t rub it in.” Prompto shifts closer even as he says it, though. Partially to get away from his own vomit, partially because resting against Gladio’s side feels kind of like curling up and dozing next to the radiator on a snowy day in February. “What’d you do?”

“Dad told me I needed to toughen up, cause I’d have to do that to humans someday too.” Against his cheek, Prompto feels him shrug. “So I did.”

“It doesn't get easier,” Prompto says softly. He thinks about the griffon, stiff and dead and being carved up to be sold. He thinks about Noct, and the electric, magical rush of it when they share his armiger. “It’s not like I don’t know we’re doing this for Noct. I keep expecting to get used to killing things. Especially when we went looking for them.”

“It’s not - that’s not a bad thing. We need-” Gladio rubs the back of his neck. “Shit, sorry, I’m not good with emotional stuff-”

Prompto does not buy this. “You’ve read the Twilight Saga seven times since we started this trip.”

“Hey, shut up. Anyway. Look. Me and Iggy, we were raised for this. And Noct’s always known it’s gonna be his lot. But one day, it’s gonna be over, and we’re just gonna be Lucians again.” The words are coming easily now, like this is something Gladio’s thought about a lot. “And I’m not gonna know how to just _live._ But you - you’re gonna fit right in, in peacetime.”

Prompto doesn’t say anything.

“Hey.” Gladio bops his head. “Didn’t mean that like you’re soft. You hold your own. Better than any of the rest of us, sometimes. But, making yourself numb to death and violence, that’s the coward’s way out - if you don’t let yourself hurt when there’s blood, you’re already halfway to liking it. You, you’ve got heart, still. For shit like, photography ‘n Justice Monsters Five ‘n chocobos. ‘Stead of just fighting.”

“And Noct,” Prompto adds, automatic.

“Yeah.” Gladio smiles down at him, with real affection. “But not cause you’ve sworn blood loyalty to him. Just cause you love _him._ That’s the shit we’re doing this for. So people don’t have to worry about loving like that, once there’s peacetime again.”

“Yeah.” Prompto rests his head against Gladio's shoulder briefly. “Thanks, big guy.” He musters up a smile. “Besides, it's too late to back out now anyway.”

“Would you?” says Gladio, baldfaced.

“Huh?”

“Back out. If you could.”

“What? No way. I mean - I don’t _like_ killing things. I don’t like being scared and getting hurt and running into fucking Iron Giants on the road in the middle of the night. But with Noct, it’s not just that I love him - you know I was training for Crownsguard, right?” Gladio nods. “I chose that, too. Feels like - feels like it’s my duty, to fight for that peacetime you were talking about. Geez. I dunno. Would you? If you hadn’t been born into it, would you choose this?”

“Huh.” Gladio thinks about that for a moment. “Yes.”

Prompto cocks his head. “Why the hesitation?”

“You know my mom was from Galahd, right? If I’d been born there - jeez, I think you met some of the Kingsglaive back in Insomnia, none of them have much love for the kings of Lucis.” Gladio rubs the side of his undercut. “Can’t blame ‘em, either. But Noct-”

Prompto huffs a laugh at that, and Gladio quirks an eyebrow at him. “Oh - nothing, s’just, he’s got that effect.”

“He’s always had it,” Gladio agrees. “I wouldn’t know which way to point myself if it weren’t for him. Sure, he’s got growing left to do, but I’d follow the guy into hell if he needed.”

“Yeah,” says Prompto. _Eloquent, Argentum._ But he does get it. Somewhere in there, between the sleeping in and picky eating and awful sense of humor, there’s a king. “What about Iggy?”

“Ignis,” says Gladio drily, “has never been one to shy from drawing blood on Noct’s account.”

Prompto thinks about a back-alley incident he had once witnessed in high school, after some poor citizen had threatened the crown prince, and says, “Yeah, I can see that.”

“Are you two done making out over there?” comes Noct’s voice on the breeze. Without looking, Gladio raises an arm and flips him off over the top of the boulder. There’s a laugh in Noct’s voice when he adds, “Come on, we’re ready to hit the road.”

Gladio stands, stretches, offers Prompto a hand. “You good to go, chocobutt?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Prompto accepts the hand and hops to his feet, realizing belatedly that he’s hungry as hell. “Let’s go celebrate by eating something dead!”

Gladio thumps him on the back, sending him stumbling for a few steps. “That’s the spirit.”

* * *

That afternoon, when they head back to the haven, Noct drags Prompto off to the side for a moment, speaking in a low voice as Ignis and Gladio break out the dinner ingredients. “So.”

“Y-yeah?” This could be anything from _I overheard you talking about me with Gladio_ to _I want to skip out on dishes tonight for the King’s Knight event quest_ to _I’ve realized after several years that you’re horrifically annoying and I want you to leave my company immediately-_

“I accidentally put some rusty bits in a bunch of those potions from yesterday,” Noct tells him. “So we’ve got a shitton of Failcast Fira.”

Prompto stares at him. “You _accidentally_ put rusty bits in those tiny little flasks?”

 _“Shhh!_ Do you want Ignis to hear? Besides, that’s not the point. Do you want to go test them all with me before dinner?”

“What, like - just, on the grass?”

“Yeah, we can’t count on them in battle.” Noct lifts one shoulder in a shrug, and pulls several flasks of dancing flames from the armiger with a flash of blue light. “But we can go try to blow some bushes up. It’ll be really cool.”

“I love you,” says Prompto, with feeling.

“Whatever,” says Noct. “Love you too. Come on.”

 _Yeah,_ Prompto thinks to himself, as he follows Noct towards the edge of the haven, sun drifting down towards the horizon ahead of them. _This one, I’ll stand by._

* * *

The next morning, Ignis emerges from the tent with his _if not for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered our crown prince_ face on. “Gladio, he’s being particularly unreasonable, if you might-”

“Sure,” says Gladio, looking way too pleased about it. He grabs one of their canvas waterskins. “I’ll just-”

“No, no, I’ll take care of it!” Prompto interjects, hopping up from his camp chair. “No need for drastic measures!”

Ignis and Gladio exchange a look. “You’re welcome to try,” says Ignis carefully, “but the two of us have been handling him for years, you know-”

“Nah, I got this.” Prompto grins a wicked, wicked grin, ducks under the tent flap, and shoves his hand into Noct’s sleeping bag.

A split second later, Noct is floating a few feet above the ground and letting out a noise that cannot be described as anything but a _shriek._ _“I’m going to debone you like a fucking trout, Prompto Argentum-”_

Prompto, cackling wildly, darts off before Noct can collect himself enough to seek vengeance. He sequesters himself behind the brick shithouse that is Gladiolus Amicitia, who is snorting with laughter.

“Impressive,” says Ignis, sounding like he means it. “What did you…?”

“You’re telling me you’ve known Noct since the dawn of time and you never found out he’s ticklish?”

“I - I didn’t ever try to _tickle the crown prince of Lucis, no.”_

“Well, then.” Prompto winks. “That’s best friend privileges.” He’s feeling notably chipper, and he hops up onto Gladio’s back, slinging his arms over his shoulders and talking right into his ear. “Hey, wanna go for a run?”

“Seems like you might have to,” Gladio rumbles against his chest.

“Huh?”

A few things happen in very quick succession. Firstly, Noct stumbles out of the tent, hair in a whole other dimension and murder in his eyes. Secondly, Ignis says, “If you will,” and Gladio says, “‘course.” Thirdly, Gladio’s hands wrap around Prompto’s thighs and hold him securely in place, despite his immediate and frantic struggling.

“Gladio,” says Prompto. “Big guy.” Noct has spotted him and is approaching like a thunderstorm with bedhead. _“Please-”_

Gladio lets go. Prompto hits the ground scrambling. A large palm smacks against his ass, and he bolts forward like a startled spiracorn. “Start running.”

Prompto’s halfway to the trail before he remembers to breathe.

Gladio catches up to him about halfway through his circuit. He’s huffing and puffing - with so much weight to haul around, he’s always been slower than Prompto - but keeps up as they circle around back towards the haven. He’s also smirking.

“You that scared of a noogie or two?”

Prompto flips him a halfhearted bird. “S’not that. He just - aw, c’mon, you know Noct knows all my weaknesses as well as I know his.”

“Weaknesses, huh?” says Gladio.

In the time it takes Prompto to process the horrible, horrible implications of that question, he’s already been knocked into the long grass by the side of the trail. There is a very sweaty, very heavy Gladio on top of him, already wiggling his fingers with a smirk spreading across his lips like one of those time-lapses of a slime mold. _“Wait_ \- no, no, no, Gladio, _no-”_

By the time Gladio finally takes mercy, Prompto’s wheezing and weak. They run back together, and Gladio keeps grinning at him sidelong like he’s about to pounce again. Prompto feels kind of hunted. And weirdly turned on, but, you know, rolling around on the ground with Gladio would have that effect on most people. By the Six, he feels like there’s ants crawling around all under his skin. Maybe it’s all the dirt.

It’s definitely the dirt. Ignis is gonna kill him. They just went swimming _last night._ And Noct will probably make fun of both of them, since he’s taken to snarking at Prompto about it whenever he spends time alone with Gladio lately - what _is_ up with that, actually?

On the note of Gladio, though, Prompto suddenly remembers what he fell asleep thinking about last night.

“Hey,” he says, as they come up towards the haven at a fairly easy jog. He doesn’t wanna leave Gladio _completely_ in the dust, after all. “I wanted to tell you something.”

“…Yeah?”

Prompto elbows him. “Don’t sound so worried about it, s’just what you said about Ignis and Noct. I think we should definitely keep trying to get them together. Or at least to talk about their feelings. Like-” Prompto waves a hand, trying to articulate. “You know how you said yesterday, we’ve gotta keep thinking about the peacetime we’re fighting for? What’s on the other side? Instead of letting ourselves go numb?”

Gladio snorts. “Oh, so dating’s just like war now, is it?”

“Quit deflecting!” Prompto protests. “You get what I mean, right? Like, even if they _do_ get together and then break up or whatever, we’ll deal with it as it happens, y’know. You can’t just let yourself stop having good feelings cause you’re scared of what might happen if they turn bad.”

“You know what,” says Gladio slowly, “you’re right.”

“Geez, don’t sound so surprised about it!”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up.” When Prompto glances over, Gladio’s brow is furrowed, and he’s chewing on his lower lip. “Hey, I know we’re almost back, but can I talk to you about something later?”

“Huh? Sure, I guess, why?”

And then they hit the path up to the haven, and Prompto skids to a stop. He throws out an arm in front of Gladio, too. Gladio plows right through it, but realizes what’s happened a moment later and stops too.

At their makeshift camp table, Ignis is chopping up vegetables for breakfast. This is normal. Noct hasn’t crawled back into his sleeping bag, which is _not._ He’s standing at the Coleman stove, stirring a pot of something. They’re talking quietly.

Noct’s free arm is looped around Ignis’ waist, and his head is resting on his shoulder.

Okay. Okay. Maybe - maybe this is normal. Maybe they get close like this whenever Prompto and Gladio are gone.

Or maybe something is happening for the _first time._ Holy shit. Prompto tries not to breathe. Ignis and Noct are facing away from him and Gladio, but if either turns around, they’ll be in plain sight. Which is bad, because he’s pretty sure they can hear his heartbeat in Gralea right now.

Ignis turns to Noct and kisses him.

Prompto inhales sharply. Noct - Noct doesn’t seem surprised. He’s kissing back, actually. Like, with _skill._ Where did Noct learn to kiss like that? Prompto hasn’t kissed him in five years, but he’s pretty sure Noct hasn’t dated much since then. At all, actually. Has he been going out and hooking up with people? Without telling Prompto? And learning how to _put his tongue in Ignis’ mouth?_

They part slowly, reluctantly. Prompto strains his ears, and manages to catch-

“…going to be back any minute now, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Noct sighs. His arm falls from Ignis’ waist. “They sure do take their time making o-”

 _Shit,_ he’s starting to turn around. Prompto skids backwards several paces and hollers, “Ahoy, cap’n!”

“Welcome a- _board!”_ Noct calls back.

“I don’t understand why you have to do that every time you’ve been apart from each other,” Gladio grumbles as he falls into step next to Prompto.

“It’s our _thing,”_ Prompto assures him. They head up the rest of the way to the haven, and Noct makes fun of them for being covered in dirt, and Prompto and Gladio exchange a look and crunch him in a muddy prince sandwich, and Ignis orders them all to go wash up in the nearby stream before he’ll serve them a single scrap of breakfast, so help him Astrals.

They go and splash around. Prompto agrees to scrub Noct’s back with sand, even though he knows Noct just wants the free backrub. Gladio washes his packer along with the rest of his body like he always does.

But Prompto is staring daggers at his best friend the whole time.

 _There’s no_ way _you’re getting off the hook that easily._

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me about this on [twitter](https://twitter.com/dickaeopolis/status/1088620991834701824?s=19) and [tumblr](http://dicaeopolis.tumblr.com/post/182284504792)


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